


A Quiet Night

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bonding, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Geralt Being a Good Dad, No Plot/Plotless, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: They have a still moment together.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 173





	A Quiet Night

**Author's Note:**

> i need more ideas jajdjakwkaw
> 
> this is just. idk where this idea came from but it's cute skenwkamwjw 
> 
> this one can again fit in any of the stories; the books, game, or show, though i was thinking of the show when writing this
> 
> i'll probably write them arriving at Kaer Morhen in my next fic if enough people want me to. i do have a desire to write lambert the prick....

“Geralt?” Ciri said, her voice soft against the loud crackling of the fire. He glances to her, sitting beside him on the same log. She looks shy, bashful, and is twisting her fingers this way and that. She wants to ask him something, but is afraid to. He waits patiently for her to continue, not wanting to push her. She bites her lip before continuing, “Can… Could I braid your hair?” 

Geralt continues to stare at her face now, slowly blinking as his brain works to process what she'd just said. She looks away, almost as if struck by his expression. “I'm sorry for asking. It was a stupid question. Why would y-” 

“Yes,” Geralt said, interrupting the beginnings of a ramble. She looks back up to his face, something akin to hope in her eyes. He hesitates, unable to believe he was agreeing to this. Just a week ago if some child had asked him this same question, he would have instantly said no. He probably still would say no to any other child, if they weren't Ciri. But this was Ciri and he wanted to keep her happy. “You can braid my hair, I mean.” 

A smile slowly begins to creep it's way on Ciri’s face, crinkling her eyes in the corners as they shine brightly. She hops to her feet on the top of the log, her own hair- whitening to an ashen grey more and more every day- cascades around her shoulders, nearly shining silver in the fire light. “Thank you, Geralt!” she said almost as an afterthought, and moves to stand behind him. He pushes from the log so he was sitting on the dirt ground in front of it, letting her stand on the log behind him. She could reach his head easier this way. “I've always wanted to learn to braid!”

That makes Geralt pause again. He looks at her through the corner of his eye. “You haven't braided before?” he asks, suddenly very afraid for his hair. 

Ciri purses her lips and begins to drag her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching along his scalp lightly. Not that he would admit it out loud- he has a reputation to uphold- but it felt nice, the way Ciri was gently brushing her fingers through his long hair. “I mean, my nanny showed me how to!” she said reassuredly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Just don't rip my hair out, please,” he said after a long sigh at her answer. She grins sheepishly at him and he has to sigh again. The things he’d already do for her was ridiculous. 

“I would never rip your hair out!” she exclaimed dramatically, and begins to separate different sections of his hair. She throws one bunch of his hair over his left shoulder, and another over his right. “You have so much hair…” she mutters, beginning to section the middle bunch she'd left laying on his back. 

“I've been growing it for a long time,” he replied. He grunts lightly when she yanks a little too hard at a handful of his hair, and she quickly apologizes. He was starting to regret his decision of letting her handle his hair. At least it was already beyond dirty, so the dirt coating her hands didn't make much difference against the grayish color it's become after being on the road for so long. “Please be careful.” 

“Sorry sorry,” she apologized again, pulling more gently along the hair as she worked with it. She begins the braiding process, twisting the strands together and tightening them to braid them longer. At some point her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, finishing the braid off by tying the ends. “I got one!” she was excited, grinning widely and ready grabbing another clump of his hair to braid. He sighs, but stays still, letting her continue working. He was afraid if he moved too much she would accidentally tear a chunk of his hair from his head. 

“Your hair is so pretty,” Ciri mutters, probably more to herself than to Geralt, but he answers anyway. 

“Thank you,” he said. “It was a Trial of the Grasses side effect.” 

“Well it was a good side effect,” Ciri stayed certainly, not leaving any room for argument. He has to say, when she says something she's sure of, she is very convincing. He even believes her about his hair now, even though he's hated it for most of his life. “It's very beautiful.” She clicks her tongue, pulls at his hair as she starts another braid. “And soft!” 

“I use dirt to keep it soft,” he said sarcastically, and she giggles at his words. “And the lice like to chew it.”

“Lice!” Ciri exclaims, tears her hands away, before laughing again. “There aren't any lice in your hair!” She ties the ends of her second braid, making a noise of triumph. “This one looks better than the first one!” 

“You're already improving in skill,” he said, and she drags the last bunch of hair. “Soon enough you'll be the best hairdresser in all of Velen.” 

“Maybe I could be,” Ciri said half-mindedly, braiding the last bunch of the braid tightly. Geralt stares into the fire’s dancing flames, fully relaxing for the first time in years as Ciri’s fingers brush through his hair to capture any stray strands. He throws an arm over his raise knee, stretching his other foot nearer to the flames. “Since I don't have a kingdom anymore… I could be a hairdresser.” 

“If you want to be one,” Geralt replied, leaning his head backwards when she pulls a little at the white strands. “Go for it.” 

Ciri is silent for a moment before speaking again, “No. I'd rather be a Witcher.” 

Geralt sighs heavily at her words, and is about to speak again when Ciri lets out another exclamation. “Finished!” she hops down from the log and moves to stand in front of him, snorting at her work. “You look… wonderful, Geralt!” 

“I'd better,” he said, running his hand down one of the three braids. It was the first Ciri had done, and it was rough and many of the strands slipped free easily or were already sticking out this way or that. The second was a tad firmer, with only a few free strands and the last was the best one out of the bunch, falling over his shoulder so he could see the tip of it. “You did just tear half of my hair out.” 

Ciri gasps in mock offense. “I did not!” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. “That is just plain offensive, Geralt of Rivia!” 

“Perhaps the truth is sometimes offensive then, Cirilla of Cintra,” Geralt replied, unable to stop the smirk from pulling at his lips. He was full on smiling a second later as Ciri chuckles at his appearance. His chest felt warm, almost like the fire was dancing around in his heart instead of on the ground. 

“Or perhaps you're just a mean old Witcher!” she replied snarkily and he rolls his eyes. 

They were only a few weeks away from Kaer Morhen. Then they could begin her true training; not in the hair braiding variety.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know!!


End file.
